


First Blood

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, First Time, Homoeroticism, M/M, Mild Gore, Misogyny, Molestation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: Robb is shook up after his first time killing a man.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse to be nasty. I don't know if or where it fits in the timelines of show vs book and honestly it's only fanfiction. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

1.

Robb looks the part of a young king on the battlefield. His armor shines. It's never seen battle after all. Grey Wind runs alongside him, the beast excited by the bloodshed. Roose fights cautiously, but keeps an occasional eye on his king.  _Another Stark King uniting the North._ It leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Robb is young though. He is stubborn, but perhaps still moldable. 

Greywind sinks his teeth into a man's legs and Robb finishes the kill. The boy's eyes widen.  _Blue like his mother's_. Roose realizes what's happening and everything else slows down for a moment. He's of course seen Eddard behead men before, but this his first kill-- his pretty king is learning the reality of war.

Roose's tongue presses against the roof of his mouth and he briefly smiles. His next kills are easy. It must be good morale. Men are supposed to be inspired by their Kings.

 

2.

Catelyn and the Greatjon give Roose the same look when he makes his suggestion to Robb.

"If you're going to keep them alive, they might as well be of use."

Robb purses his lips. There's flecks of blood on his armor.

"I won't kill helpless men. We're no better than the Lannisters then," he insists. Catelyn shines with pride.

Nearby a man squirms on the ground, looking down at his own entrails.

"Allow me to show you something, your grace."

He speaks softly, standing over the fallen soldier.

"There's no saving him. Wouldn't it be kinder to end his misery?"

Robb looks uncomfortable, Catelyn simply angry.

"He has a point," concedes Greatjon.

He looks Robb in the eyes when he drives the sword in. Robb looks uncertain. Perhaps he's recognized there's no difference in any of this.

 

3.

Roose waits after the other's have been excused from Robb's tent.

"I released you, Lord Bolton. I believe I made that clear," Robb insists.

He looks tired finally.

"I thought we should speak further... Your mother has never been to war before. When your father led us against the Targaryens she remained in the Riverlands," Roose offers.

Robb is dressed down to his leathers, a sword still hung across his hips. He must feel safe. Red scruffy hairs line his neck. Roose's own father had told him red heads bleed faster. The young king glowers.

"You are too forward, Lord Bolton," he snarls. _An untrained beast, just like his sigil._ Robb stands closer. They are of a height for now, but Robb in his youth may grow still. 

"I suspect I am not forward enough, your Grace. Your father fought with his heart and it cost him his head."

Roose lays his hand carefully atop the boy's own chest. He imagines that beneath his hand the boy's pulse has sped up. His ruddy brows furrow, but he does not stop it.

Roose tugs at the boy's belt. His sword slackens and clatters down, but Robb does not give.

"And what of Robert Baratheon, my King? He followed his cock and thirsts to an early grave."

Roose grips the boy firmly between his legs. Robb pushes back at this, but Roose has hold.

"Go on and stop me. What would you say? You let a man your father's age grab you like a maid?" Roose teases. "If I had raised you, you would have had no trouble in the field. I saw the dread in your eyes, your Grace."

"I had released you before, and you will release me now, Lord Bolton," Robb insists. His voice isn't shaking, despite the thrashing in his chest. A warm mass of pleasure and sinew thumps beneath his curving ribs. Roose is certain of it.

Roose slackens, only to surprise Robb with a brief and intentionally tender squeeze. The boy reddens and Roose feels a flutter of motion in his hand.

"As my King bids me then."

Roose gifts the boy a brief chuckle. 

"Sleep well, your grace. There'll be bloody work abound."

They'll march till the Lannister's are dead or the Young Wolf's head rolls from its shoulders.


End file.
